A Song of Ice and Fire, and Worm
by Transcendent Equinox
Summary: Scion comes to planetos instead of Earth Bet, right after Robert Baratheon kills Rhaegar Targaryen on the battlefield. Essentially, I've just given various characters from Game of Thrones powers from Worm.
1. Prologue

**Disclaimer : Any material that could potentially be considered infringement of copyrights and trademarks should be considered the property of their respective creators or owners. You are reading this of your own freewill, so please refrain from doing so if you don't like graphic violence, explicit sexuality, vulgar language, or polyamorous relationships. If you have any comments, questions, or concerns you can leave a review or PM me. Also, if you would kindly review, favorite, follow, and/or share the story with communities, I would greatly appreciate it.**

* * *

 **A/N: My Own Prompt: I have an idea for a story, that should be quite interesting to fans of Worm and Game of Thrones:**

 **Scion arrives on Planetos at the finale of Robert's Rebellion, the moment after Robert strikes down Rhaegar. The battle stops as everyone stares at this golden god. The Father, the Warrior... it doesn't really matter what they think he is, exactly: he is now the avatar of their religion. Scion moves around the world doing much the same as he does in Worm: helping people as needed while secretly allowing shards of himself to bud off into the local populace. Instead of parahumans, they're called something esoteric and arcane. Instead of the Protectorate and PRT, people only answer to their noble families, or themselves.**

* * *

On the left side is the character, and the right side is the power they're getting. People who are boldfaced have triggered by the start of this chapter.

 **Eddard Stark: August Prince**  
Catelyn Stark: Panacea  
 **Brynden Tully: Hookline**  
 **Benjen Stark: Shadowstalker**  
 **Robb Stark: Uber & Jouster**  
Bran Stark: Aiden & Gallant  
 **Hodor: Clairvoyant**  
Rickon Stark: Bitch  
Sansa Stark: Tattletale  
Arya Stark: Imp & Grue  
Jon Snow: Dauntless  
Samwell Tarly: Leet  
 **Rodrik Cassel: Adamant**  
Lyanna Mormont: Vista

 **Robert Baratheon: Assault & Auroch**  
Gendry: Ballistic

 **Tywin Lannister: Coil**  
 **Kevan Lannister: Eleventh Hour**  
 **Jaime Lannister: Legend**  
Cersei Lannister: Heartbreaker  
Joffrey: Jack Slash  
Tonmen: Cherish  
Myrcella: Glory Girl  
 **Tyrion Lannister: Frenja + Menja**  
 **Ser Bronn: Fletchette**  
 **Ilyn Payne: King**  
 **Gregor Clegane: Crawler**  
 **Sandor Clegane: Animos**  
 **Amory Lorch: Victor**  
 **Maester Qyburn: Bonesaw & Cask**  
 **Roose Bolton: Festering Wounds**  
 **Ramsay Snow: Butcher**

 **Petyr Baelish: Accord**  
 **Lysa Arryn: Codex**  
 **Ros the Whore: Citrine**

 **Stannis Baratheon: Kaiser & Hookwolf**  
Renly Baratheon: Epoch  
 **Olenna Redwyne: Blasto**  
 **Loras Tyrell: Quarrel & Operator Red**  
Maergary Tyrell: Canary  
 **Brienne of Tarth: Alexandria**  
 **Ser Berric Dondarrion: Crusader**  
 **Thoros of Myr: Scapegoat**  
 **Selyse Florent: Purity**  
 **Shireen Baratheon: Dinah Alcott**  
 **Patchface: Circus**  
 **Ser Davos Seaworth: Stormtiger**  
Edric Storm: Battery  
 **Melissandre: Glastig Ulaine [Rhaegar Targaryen: Eidolon]**

 **Euron Greyjoy: Marquis (Kimimaro)**  
 **Balon Greyjoy Hemmorhagia (Kurona)**  
 **Yara Greyjoy: Narwhal**  
Theon Greyjoy: Spree

 **Mance Rayder: Teacher**  
 **Tormund Giantsbane: Aegis**  
 **Ygritte: Burnscar**  
 **Howlette: Wolverine**  
 **Mag Mar Tun Doh Weg: Weld**  
 **Wun Weg Wun Dar Wun: Mog**

Craster: Nilbog

Daenarys Targaryen: Null (Valefor FROM Illyrio Mopatis)  
 **Viserys Targaryen: Two**  
 **Ser Arthur Dayne: Chevalier & Armsmaster**  
 **Elia Martel: Claire Bennet**  
 **Khal Drogo: Lung**  
 **Daario Naharis: Hatchet Face**  
 **Ser Jorah Mormont: Strider**  
 **Doreah: Othello**  
 **Missandei: Othalla**  
 **Grey Worm: Bakugou**  
 **Ser Barristan Selmy: Black Kaze**

* * *

 **Prologue**

Twenty Years ago, at the final battle of Robert's Rebellion, a golden god showed himself to the world. It was as soon as Robert himself struck down Rhaegar with his warhammer, sending the rubies encrusted in the prince's armor clattering to the ground, that the god made himself known..

The Father. The Mother. The Maiden. The Crone. The Warrior. The Smith. The Stranger.

Scion.

After the battlefield came to a sudden stop, everyone, regardless of sides, stared up at the figure of the golden god floating hundreds of feet above them… The god drifted downwards, Its eyes focused on Robert Baratheon. Without an expression on its face, everyone still knew exactly how it felt: pleased.

Golden light emanated from the god, bathing the entire battlefield in Its glow.

From that day onwards, certain special people began developing powers beyond that of mortal ken. These people, regardless of race or nationality or ethnicity, came to be known as empowered. The finale to Robert's Rebellion was the beginning of the next age of heroes. Or perhaps, an age of warlords.

And so our story begins...

* * *

 **A/N: I know it isn't much, but this is what's popped into my head over the course of the past few days. If this story seems like it'll be interesting to you, please let me know!** **Is there a character you think deserves a power? Is there a power you think deserves a character? Let me know in a review. Do you agree with my character-power groupings, and if so/not why?**


	2. Chapter 1

**Disclaimer : Any material that could potentially be considered infringement of copyrights and trademarks should be considered the property of their respective creators or owners. You are reading this of your own freewill, so please refrain from doing so if you don't like graphic violence, explicit sexuality, vulgar language, or polyamorous relationships. If you have any comments, questions, or concerns you can leave a review or PM me. Also, if you would kindly review, favorite, follow, and/or share the story with communities, I would greatly appreciate it.**

* * *

 **A/N: My Own Prompt: I have an idea for a story, that should be quite interesting to fans of Worm and Game of Thrones:**

 **Scion arrives on Planetos at the finale of Robert's Rebellion, the moment after Robert strikes down Rhaegar. The battle stops as everyone stares at this golden god. The Father, the Warrior... it doesn't really matter what they think he is, exactly: he is now the avatar of their religion. Scion moves around the world doing much the same as he does in Worm: helping people as needed while secretly allowing shards of himself to bud off into the local populace. Instead of parahumans, they're called something esoteric and arcane. Instead of the Protectorate and PRT, people only answer to their noble families, or themselves.**

* * *

On the left side is the character, and the right side is the power they're getting. People who are boldfaced have triggered by the start of this chapter.

 **Eddard Stark: August Prince**  
Catelyn Stark: Panacea  
 **Brynden Tully: Hookline**  
 **Benjen Stark: Shadowstalker**  
 **Robb Stark: Uber & Jouster**  
Bran Stark: Aiden & Gallant  
 **Hodor: Clairvoyant**  
Rickon Stark: Bitch  
Sansa Stark: Tattletale  
Arya Stark: Imp & Grue  
Jon Snow: Dauntless  
Samwell Tarly: Leet  
 **Rodrik Cassel: Adamant**  
Lyanna Mormont: Vista

 **Robert Baratheon: Assault & Auroch**  
Gendry: Ballistic  
 **Wisdom Hallyne: Bakuda**  
 **Wisdom Rossart: Pyrotechnical**

 **Tywin Lannister: Coil**  
 **Kevan Lannister: Eleventh Hour**  
 **Jaime Lannister: Legend**  
Cersei Lannister: Heartbreaker  
Joffrey: Jack Slash  
Tonmen: Cherish  
Myrcella: Glory Girl  
 **Tyrion Lannister: Frenja + Menja**  
 **Ser Bronn: Fletchette**  
 **Ilyn Payne: King**  
 **Gregor Clegane: Crawler**  
 **Sandor Clegane: Animos**  
 **Amory Lorch: Victor**  
 **Maester Qyburn: Bonesaw & Cask**  
 **Roose Bolton: Festering Wounds**  
 **Ramsay Snow: Butcher**

 **Petyr Baelish: Accord**  
 **Lysa Arryn: Codex**  
 **Ros the Whore: Citrine**

 **Stannis Baratheon: Kaiser & Hookwolf**  
Renly Baratheon: Epoch  
 **Olenna Redwyne: Blasto**  
 **Loras Tyrell: Quarrel & Operator Red**  
Maergary Tyrell: Canary  
 **Brienne of Tarth: Alexandria**  
 **Ser Berric Dondarrion: Crusader**  
 **Thoros of Myr: Scapegoat**  
 **Selyse Florent: Purity**  
 **Shireen Baratheon: Dinah Alcott**  
 **Patchface: Circus**  
 **Ser Davos Seaworth: Stormtiger**  
Edric Storm: Battery  
 **Melissandre: Glastig Ulaine [Rhaegar Targaryen: Eidolon]**

 **Euron Greyjoy: Marquis (Kimimaro)**  
 **Balon Greyjoy Hemmorhagia (Kurona)**  
 **Yara Greyjoy: Narwhal**  
Theon Greyjoy: Spree

 **Mance Rayder: Teacher**  
 **Tormund Giantsbane: Aegis**  
 **Ygritte: Burnscar**  
 **Howlette: Wolverine**  
 **Mag Mar Tun Doh Weg: Weld**  
 **Wun Weg Wun Dar Wun: Mog**

Craster: Nilbog

Daenarys Targaryen: Null (Valefor FROM Illyrio Mopatis)  
 **Viserys Targaryen: Two**  
 **Ser Arthur Dayne: Chevalier & Armsmaster**  
 **Elia Martel: Claire Bennet**  
 **Khal Drogo: Lung**  
 **Daario Naharis: Hatchet Face**  
 **Ser Jorah Mormont: Strider**  
 **Doreah: Othello**  
 **Missandei: Othalla**  
 **Grey Worm: Bakugou**  
 **Ser Barristan Selmy: Black Kaze**

* * *

 **Chapter 1**

Winterfell

"Bran, you get down from there right now!" called out Catelyn Stark. Her son grumbled but did as was asked of him, leaving behind the battlements of his ancestral castle in favor of not garnering her ire. She grabbed him up in her arms before he could escape, a stern yet fond expression upon her face..

Her breath was only barely visible in front of her face as she looked her son over, making sure he was presentable. She had long since gotten used to the frigid climate of the North.

"I saw them coming," he tried to get out, though his words were muffled against her bosom. "They're almost here!"

The Starks of Winterfell had been waiting for the King to arrive for the past week, counting down the days until he was supposed to arrive. Luckily they were well prepared to host a feast, despite the absurdly short notice they got. You'd think, seeing how the entire royal entourage was on the Kingsroad for over three months, that they would have had ample time to forewarn their hosts of their intentions (and imposition), but apparently not.

The King, it seemed, didn't care much for propriety any more.

"Then we had best get ready," she answered, hearing him just fine despite how little of his voice got through. "Run along now; let your brothers and sisters know that it's time."

"Aye!" he called as he broke away from her, scampering away. She could hear him letting the whole of Winterfell know that the King's entourage was on the way.

A small smile wormed its way onto her face, and she turned on her heel. Making her way, she started giving orders to various servants to help with any last minute preparations that needed to be made. By the time she was in the courtyard, most of her family were already there.

She took her place next to her stoic husband without much ado, her eyes focusing outward.

Lord Eddard Stark was wearing leather boots and gloves, a grey jerkin, and a grey fur cloak with the house sigil stitched into it. It looked good on him.

"Stop it Arya!" came a fierce whisper from Sansa, who appeared to be embarrassed over something.

"Girls!" came the harsh admonishment from the Septa, whose flashing eyes weren't quite punishing enough to get the sisters to calm down.

They continued for another dozen seconds or so until Catelyn cleared her throat, which prompted them to immediately stop what they were doing.

Nobody knew exactly what had happened between the two girls, nor could anybody truly be sure of who started what first. Typical.

Robb smirked at his two younger brothers, Bran and Rickon, but no sound came from them. Jon Stark, her noble husband's bastard son (and the only speck against his honor), was standing silently behind Arya and Theon, who was sporting a bandage over his ribs. Ser Rodrik stood near them, nodding briefly at Robb for staying quiet, though his mustache twitched in silent amusement as well..

They stood in the courtyard for several long, silent minutes.

It wasn't too long before the King's entourage finally arrived. Soon the enormous wheelhouse came to a stop before the Starks.

"King Robert Baratheon, the First of His Name, King of the Andals and the First Men, Protector of the Realm, and King of the Seven Kingdoms!" called out the King's crier.

The King exited the carriage with a boisterous grin on his face, though it became a blank slate as he eyed his quarry. His wife and children, as well as his royal guardsmen, exited behind him. He walked up to one of his best friends in the world, Lord Eddard Stark of Winterfell, Warden of the North.

The two men eyed each other in silence, no doubt drinking in all the differences between their current selves and their memories from almost a decade ago, during the laughably short Greyjoy Rebellion. There was a pregnant pause, as everyone waited with baited breath to see what the King would say to the Lord, their first words exchanged in person in nearly a decade. Surely it would be of great import-

"You got fat," said the King, sounded disappointed.

Everyone listening in hid their shock and outrage, offended on behalf of the beloved Lord. However, their scandalized inner monologues quickly gave way to amused surprise as the Stark Head did something nigh inconceivable:

With a poignantly raised brow, the slightest of amused quirks on his lips, Eddard gave a pointed glance to the King's enormous gut. He didn't say anything, however. He didn't need to.

Robert let out a gruff bark of a laugh, before clapping the Northern Lord on his shoulder. "Never change, Ned, never change. Now, who do we have we here?" he said, approaching his friend's eldest son.

"Robb Stark, your Grace."

"Ah, I thought you might be. You look mighty strong, young man, mighty strong. Now, I've heard tell that you are one of Us, eh?" came the King's reply, a glint coming into his eye as he sized the young man up. Ever since the appearance of the Golden God, his integration into the Faith of the Seven as the Father, and the emergence of empowered individuals, people tended to look up to the empowered.

And it went without saying that the empowered looked down on the unpowered.

"Aye, that I am," said Robb assertively, thinking back to that day, three years ago when it happened..

* * *

 _Robb snarled as he came at his half-brother with a practice sword, still unable to land a hit on the other boy. Despite being trueborn, despite being older, despite training harder… he just couldn't measure up to his bastard of a brother._

 _Jon weaved through all of Robb's strikes, before merely sticking a foot out to trip him._

 _Robb fell on his ass, the wind rushing out of him as he felt a deep but dull pain in his tailbone starting up. He could feel some tears trying to come to his eyes, but he forced them back down. He would not cry over this._

 _"You know," said one of the Stark guardsmen, a new soldier who hadn't been around for long enough to keep his thoughts to himself, "-you almost get the feeling that Robb's the bastard, from how he fights."_

 _Robb felt his face flushing red with anger, but he bit down a retort as he forced himself back onto his feet._

 _Unfortunately, that wasn't the only thing that the guard was going to say. "Or, at the very least, Jon Snow must be at least a few months older than him. Maybe Ned could legitimize him to-"_

In that brief moment, something terrifying and large engulfed Robb's vision. Two enormous celestial entities, larger than the entirety of Westeros and more complex than anything he'd ever envisioned, were twisting around one another in an eternal dance.

They were bending and zooming the space and time around them, beings that existed within and without both concepts, whose impossible scale, breadth, depth, and scope were breaking Robb's mind, if only temporarily.

 **DESTINATION?**  
 **AGREEMENT.**

 **TRAJECTORY?**  
 **AGREEMENT.**

 _Then the vision was gone, like a dream that you couldn't quite remember._ _Robb's fury flashed through him, cold and deadly like a blizzard._

 _Swordsmanship?_

 _The skill dropped into his mind like an ice block down a waterfall, before heating up and melting like it was in a natural hotspring. Suddenly… he knew. He knew how to use his sword, knew that he could do it perfectly._

 _Then the sparring continued…_

* * *

"Aye, that you are," said King Robert, grinning down at his best friend's heir. "I've heard that you can become a master of any skill at any moment. I'd like to see that in action some time, young man," to which the young man merely smiled and nodded. "I've also heard that your weapon strikes can do odd things when you want them to...?" the King remarked, obviously waiting for the answer to his as-of-yet unasked question.

"Aye, Your Grace. I can make fire, ice, lightning, concussive blasts, suction, and disintegration, among other things."

Robert smiled at that, stroking his wiry black beard as if he were deep in thought. "Interesting..." he said, more to himself than anybody else. A drunkard and a whoremonger he might be, but he was far from stupid. Perhaps he didn't have the smarts to get into the Citadel, but he was the bloody king and didn't need to.

Without elaboration on his ruminations, he continued down the line, telling the older twin Bran that he'd make an excellent soldier. Before long, he came upon the younger twin Rickon, who he'd also taken a keen interest in.

"You, boy. You have a strength to you," said Robert, eyeing the young boy, who despite being minutes apart from his brother in age, appeared to be almost an entire year younger..

Rickon gave a sharp grin at that, "Aye," was all he said, and all that was needing to be said. Ever since his triggering, he wasn't as social. But that was fine, considering his tradeoff was definitely worth it.

Lord Eddard spoke up on his son's behalf, "Several weeks ago, while my sons and I went off to execute a traitor and oathbreaker, we came across a dead direwolf, which had eight pups. When we were talking about what we should do with them…"

* * *

 _"We should put them out of their misery," said Ser Rodrik, unhappy about killing the pups but not seeing any other choice in the matter._

 _Without waiting for confirmation, Theon started reaching for the pup in Rickon's arms. "Give it here," he said, carelessly waving his dagger around._

 _Rickon stepped backward, flinching away from the Ironborn. "No, you can't have Shaggy Dog!"_

 _"Let him keep it," said Jon, rolling his eyes at Theon's behavior. "It won't hurt nobody."_

 _Theon promptly ignored Jon's suggestion, seeing how they were currently feuding over something outside the current conversation. Jon frowned over at Robb, who hesitated for a brief second._

 _That indecision allowed Theon to grab a hold of the pup by its paw, and drive his dagger right through its stomach._

 _Things went pear-shaped quickly after that._

 _"No!" was all the warning Rickon gave, before the direwolf pup started to grow. Within seconds it was larger than Theon, with a symmetrical covering of bony plates and spikes, exposed muscles and calcified flesh, and a prehensile tail. It was the single scariest sight that any of the men present had ever seen._

 _The direwolf bit down on Theon's arm, instantly breaking it and almost ripping it out of its socket. Theon screamed and tried to plunge the dagger in his free hand into the creature's impenetrable hide. It went about as well as could be expected._

 _The blade bounced off the pup like a drop of rain off a suit of armor, the force of its rebound causing the dagger to go flying out of his hand. Seeming to realize that its opponent had tried to stab it_ again _, the wolf was understandably mad at Theon._

 _It casually ripped his fucking arm off._

 _Everyone present drew their weapons, and began advancing towards the beast that was finished hurting the Stark family's political ward (who was by now well and truly passed out from the pain.._

 _"Stop!" said Rickon. Everyone present paused for the briefest of moments, enough time to witness the dog did as it was told. It froze, staring back at Rickon as if it were a puppy that didn't know any better. Actually, that's exactly what the monster was._

 _"Drop it!" he commanded, and the best did as it was told, letting Theon's mangled arm out of its powerful mouth, a pool of blood coming out of the appendage, almost matching volume for volume the amount that was around its old stump.._

 _"Come here!" came the call, which was heeded by the beast. Everyone watched warily as ti returned to Rickon's side. and promptly sat on its hindquarters._

 _A stony silence fell as everybody processed what just happened. Theon was whimpering as he stared at the monstrous wolf, a nasty puddle of piss growing on the ground between his legs._

 _"... Nobody harm the pups," said Stark, his expression grim. If this event was what he thought it was..._

 _"Milord, there's at least one for each of your children, and three can stay with Rickon…"._

 _"The direwolf is the sigil of your house, after all, Lord Stark. Perhaps it was fate for us to come across these pups. I think the Starks are meant to have them," said Jon, his eyes not straying away from Rickon._

 _Lord Stark looked from Theon to Rickon, before coming to a decision. Nodding softly, he commanded "... You'll train them yourselves." Ned's youngest son smiled a watery smile at that, hugging the monster closer to him._

 _"They'll need training at the very least," said Ser Rodrik, a small frown on his face. "If they aren't, they'll kill someone. Hell, even if they are..."_

 _All of the Stark sons looked perturbed at the thought of being responsible for such a ferocious creature, but were shook out of their thoughts by their father's next words._ _"... you'll feed them yourselves," he said, staring sternly from one son to another, "... and if they die, you'll bury them yourselves."_

 _Rickon relaxed at that, and Shaggy Dog began to shrink back down to his original size, shedding all the extra biomass that he'd grown not even a minute ago. Pulling the pup out of the pile with a nasty squelching noise, everybody was shocked to see that its wounds were practically nonexistent._

 _Robb and Jon carefully walked over to their youngest brother, before clapping him on his shoulders in perfect synchronization._

 _"You're one of us now, Rickon."_

 _"One of us."_

 **Flashback End**

* * *

"I felt that sending you a raven while you were already on your way here would be a waste of time, your grace," finished Lord Stark, a proudness to his lips as he looked at his son.

"So you empower wolves, boy?" asked Robert, sizing up the youth.

Rickon merely nodded at that. Robb spoke up on his brother's behalf, "He's been different ever since he triggered. He doesn't talk much. But his power also works on hounds too. He can control, train, and heal them with his power... Ah, but it works better on wolves, and best on direwolves."

Robert looked over at Robb, nodding his understanding at that. It was well known, after all, that the gaining powers could permanently change a person, both physically and mentally. But damn if that was a useful ability.

"How many can he do?" asked King Robert, his eyes going to Lord Eddard.

"We haven't found a limit yet," admitted the Warden of the North. At one point, Rickon's power was affecting every canine in Winterfell, which numbered in the hundreds. However, once they all returned to normal, the boy passed out from exertion slamming into him.

"Aye. If I had a son with such great power…"

Queen Cersei's face twisted at that, but smoothed out before anybody could dwell on it. It was well known that Robert tended to favor those who were Empowered.

Robert made his way down further down the line, commenting on how the classic Tully beauty was coming out of Sansa, before pausing and staring at Arya for a long time, before muttering that she looked just like her aunt Lyanna.

At this, Cersei had a look of actual distaste and annoyance, though it was focused more on Robert than on Arya, thankfully.

Then the King looked at Theon, his face a mixture of annoyance and pity.

* * *

 **Flashback Begin**

 _Saltwater splashed against Robert's face, the wind howling as it tried to break against his navy. But the wind broke before it could hit any of his ships due to the interference of Davos Seaworth. Ser Davos could control the air around him, increasing the effectiveness of his senses and allowing him to keep the sea steady, at the very least._

 _Regardless, even if the wind were capable of affecting the ships, they were made of steel thanks to Stannis._

 _The Seven Kingdoms possessed the most advanced armada in the world thanks to their Master of Ships, Stannis Baratheon, who could create steel from nothing, shaped into whatever form he deemed necessary. When combined with Wyldfire 'bomb-engines' created by Wisdom Hallyne, they created an engine of war, unmatched throughout the entire world._

 _And there was a whole fleet of them._

 _The Ironborn Armada was just ahead of the Dragonstone Fleet, approaching Robert's navy at a breakneck pace. They probably thought that the plumes of flame billowing forth from the steel ships were out-of-control fires that they could take advantage of. But rather than a plague, it was merely exhaust from their advanced engines._

 _Robert Baratheon exchanged a look with Ned Stark, whose presence on his ship meant that he had little to fear in regards to immediate reprisals; Ned was immune to violence, after all._

 _Grinning a manic, murderous grin, Robert reached for the pile of steel spheres that were next to him, supplied by Stannis. He picked one of them up, bent back his index finger, then aimed it at the Ironborn's flagship. Without another word, he flicked the cannonball._

 _Crashing thunder shook the world, though there was no lightning accompanying it. A grey line crossed the battlefield in a single heartbeat, disappearing as soon as it appeared._

 _The flagship exploded, instantly torn asunder by the deadly payload. A steel ball, weighing approximately ten pounds was accelerated beyond the speed of sound itself, moving so fast that it probably melted well before it actually struck its target._

 _Balon Greyjoy was probably beginning to regret starting this little 'Rebellion.' Actually, the entire Ironborn Armada slowed down, now that their largest ship was out of commission._

 _A crimson pillar rose out of the water, the tip of which Balon himself was standing on..._

 _... Robert grabbed another cannonball._

 **Flashback End**

* * *

Having gone through all of the introductions, the King returned to his best friend. "Ned, I think it's about time that I pay my respects to the dead!"

From behind him Cersei finally spoke up, "My Love, perhaps it would be best if we-"

"I'm paying my respects to the dead," he cut her off, not even bothering to look over at his wife. Beautiful as she was, her luster had long since lost its appeal to the man, and the feelings were equally reciprocated, if at the very least tempered for their audience.

Deciding not to dwell on the slight, the Queen approached Catelyn Stark with a practiced smile upon her regal face.

But Sansa and Arya were not paying attention to the noble women. Their attention now fell solely on Jaime Lannister, the Legend. It was known that he once was known as an Oathbreaker and Kingslayer, back before the story of what the Mad King planned to do to King's Landing had come out. He, like all the Kingsguard around him, was wearing their sacred order's signature all-white cloaks, and gold armor with extensive white enameling.

He was renowned as one of the most powerful empowered in the world, well beyond almost anyone else. His only competitors in that category were Brienne of Tarth, Jon Stark in a few more years, a mysterious group in Essos called the Three Blasphemies, a roaming group of bandits calling themselves the Slaughterhouse Nine, someone near Quarth called the Sleeper, someone in the great grass sea called Ash Beast, and a group well into Asshai known only as Akatsuki of Yangban.

It was rumored that Jaime could emanate beams of light that carried various magical effects, could fly around, and could even become light itself.

Of course, Sansa didn't care about any of that: Jaime was also known as the most beautiful man in Westeros, and she could see why. The blond-haired, blue-eyed, tan-skinned man was tall and muscular, with a regal face and a charismatic smile.

But while Sansa swooned at his physical appearance, Arya was much more interested in his powers. They sounded like something out of Old Nan's stories, back from the Age of Heroes.

Jaime nodded at the girls, causing both to blush fiercely. Joffrey tried to throw a charming smile Sansa's way, but she didn't notice it in favor of the Crown Prince's uncle.

"Where's the giant dwarf?" asked Arya, not realizing that it was somewhat rude of her to say this to the man before they'd even been properly introduced.

Ignoring the potential faux pas for what it was, Jaime answered, "Oh, I'm sure he'll be here by the time the feast starts. Perhaps I should go find him, now that we're all here..."

Across the Narrow Sea

Daenarys Targaryn stared at herself in the mirror, nude as the day she was born. She had the thick, silvery blonde hair that her family was known for, as well as the deep, wide violet eyes that set her ancestors apart from everyone else. Here face was elfin and doll-like, with high rouged cheekbones, full luscious red lips, and a narrow but soft nose. Her neck was long, her shoulders were thin, and her collar bone stuck out just a bit.

Her breasts were large and full, yet perky with soft pink nipples. Her stomach was skinny, with the barest lines of developed feminine abdominal muscles. Her waist was small, her hips were wide, her legs were long, and her ass was big and curvy. She was physically everything that a man could ask for.

But her brother, Viserys, would still find something wrong with her appearance. She smelled of lilacs and vanilla thanks to the perfumed soaps and oils that were used to bathe her, her hair as soft and strong as spun silk, and her skin as smooth as that of a baby.

Yet she still worried about his wrath. She was going to be wedded today, after all, and she needed to look absolutely perfect for her future husband.

Thinking about Khal Drogo filled her with an intense interest and anxiety that she hadn't quite come to terms with yet: it was rumored that, while in battle, her soon-to-be husband transformed into an actual firebreathing dragon, much like the ones that her family was tied to not so long ago.

Everybody kept mentioning, behind Viserys's back, that it was ironic, for her to be marrying a man who could become a dragon so that her family could regain its old strength, though she failed to see why. Taming dragons was in her blood after all.

She sighed as she noticed her brother behind her, staring at her figure with an odd combination of love and hate on his face. Likely he was thinking of the old tales, in which Targaryen siblings would come together to foster offspring, the tales that he himself had told her, once they were out of sight. However, even he wasn't crazy enough to risk her virginity, and by extension her betrothed's ire.

He wanted so desperately to reclaim the Iron Throne.

Still, her eyes unfocused, she thought back to the only home she knew: that house in Braavos, the one with the red door, the home that she shared with Ser Willem and Ser Arthur, the one where her Aunt Elia baked bread every morning. For a brief moment, she wondered if Ser Arthur was still alive, out there in the world looking for her and her brother, along with her aunt Elia.

She'd worry about Elia's health, but there was nothing in this world that could kill that woman.

Danaerys Stormborn of House Targaryen was soon to be the Khaleesi, a title she was sure wouldn't be too bad...

* * *

 **A/N: Instead of parahumans, they are called empowered. I will be going back and editing the first chapter after I post this one to fix this.**

 **To recap: Robb triggered while sparring with Jon. Rickon triggered when they found the direwolves, so this is all still pretty knew for him at this point. The Greyjoy Rebellion was soundly defeated by a combination of Robert and Stannis Baratheon, Wisdom Hallyne (the Pyromancer), Ser Davos Seaworth, and Ned Stark's powers.**

 **I've also shown that the empowered are considered to be blessed by the Seven, meaning that there will be no witch hunts. This is further reason for any person who triggers, regardless of their station in life, being instantly ennobled. This keeps the empowered happy with the status quo enough not to challenge it, but it's just a stopgap measure (not that the people in charge know that); eventually the number of empowered people will make this system unviable.**

 **Class warfare (without religious backing), on the other hand, between the empowered and the unpowered is a distinct possibility.** **I've also done some worldbuilding: Westeros will end up looking a lot like the Fire Nation from Avatar: the Last Airbender, technology wise. However, it is still good ol' Westeros.**

 **This story is going to get real dark, real fast. Neither Worm or GoT are happy worlds to live in, so meshing them will be... interesting, to say the least. This story probably won't focus too hard on the Others and the Endbringers, but it very well could. I've got ideas for that, but it'll have to wait a little while, depending on how my life goes and whether this story gets popular enough to warrant the investment of time that leads to updates.**

 **Is there a character you think deserves a power? Is there a power you think deserves a character? Let me know in a review. Do you agree with my character-power groupings, and if so/not why?**


	3. Chapter 2

**Disclaimer : Any material that could potentially be considered infringement of copyrights and trademarks should be considered the property of their respective creators or owners. You are reading this of your own freewill, so please refrain from doing so if you don't like graphic violence, explicit sexuality, vulgar language, or polyamorous relationships. If you have any comments, questions, or concerns you can leave a review or PM me. Also, if you would kindly review, favorite, follow, and/or share the story with communities, I would greatly appreciate it.**

* * *

 _ **THIS IS YOUR TRIGGER WARNING: A Song of Ice and Fire is dark as fuck, and so is Worm. Every taboo you can think of, from incest and bestiality to rape and torture will come up in this story. Don't read if you do not want to see this. But grimdark is the name of the game, and first generation trigger events are the worst moments in somebody's life.**_

* * *

This is the final, revised list of characters and their powers. On the left side is the character, and the right side is the power they're getting. People who are boldfaced and underlined have triggered by the start of this chapter.

Eddard Stark: August Prince  
Catelyn Stark: Panacea  
Brynden Tully: Hookline  
Benjen Stark: Shadowstalker  
Robb Stark: Uber & Jouster  
Bran Stark: Aiden & Gallant  
Hodor: Clairvoyant & Gentle Giant  
Osha (Wildling): Cricket  
Jojen Reed: Labyrinth  
Meera Reed: Doormaker  
Rickon Stark: Bitch [Nymeria, Brutus, Judas, Angelique, Summer, Lady, Grey Wolf, Ghost]  
Sansa Stark: Tattletale & Shamrock  
Arya Stark: Imp & Grue  
Syrio Forel: Skidmark (Weiss Schnee)  
Jaqen H'gar: Oni Lee  
Jon Snow: Dauntless  
Samwell Tarly: Leet  
Rodrik Cassel: Adamant  
Lyanna Mormont: Vista

* * *

Robert Baratheon: Assault & Auroch  
Gendry: Ballistic & Danger Sense

* * *

Tywin Lannister: Coil  
Kevan Lannister: Gavel  
Jaime Lannister: Legend  
Cersei Lannister: Heartbreaker  
Joffrey: Jack Slash  
Tonmen: Cherish  
Myrcella: Glory Girl  
Tyrion Lannister: Frenja + Menja  
Ser Bronn: Fletchette  
Shae: Foxtrot  
Ilyn Payne: King  
Gregor Clegane: Crawler  
Sandor Clegane: Animos  
Amory Lorch: Victor  
Meryn Trant: Pretender  
Maester Qyburn: Bonesaw & Cask

* * *

Petyr Baelish: Accord  
Lysa Arryn: Codex  
Ros the Whore: Citrine  
Mhaegan the Whore: Shatterbird

* * *

Stannis Baratheon: Kaiser & Hookwolf  
Renly Baratheon: Epoch  
Olenna Redwyne: Blasto  
Loras Tyrell: Quarrel & Operator Red  
Maergary Tyrell: Canary  
Brienne of Tarth: Alexandria  
Ser Berric Dondarrion: Crusader  
Thoros of Myr: Scapegoat  
Selyse Florent: Purity  
Shireen Baratheon: Dinah Alcott  
Patchface: Circus  
Ser Davos Seaworth: Stormtiger  
Edric Storm: Battery  
Melissandre: Glastig Ulaine [Rhaegar Targaryen: Eidolon]

* * *

Euron Greyjoy: Marquis (Kimimaro)  
Balon Greyjoy Hemmorhagia (Kurona)  
Yara Greyjoy: Narwhal  
Theon Greyjoy: Spree  
Roose Bolton: Festering Wounds  
Ramsay Snow: Butcher

* * *

Mance Rayder: Teacher & Lionheart  
Tormund Giantsbane: Aegis  
Ygritte: Burnscar & Cinereal  
Howlette: Wolverine  
Mag Mar Tun Doh Weg: Weld  
Wun Weg Wun Dar Wun: Mog

* * *

Craster: Nilbog

* * *

Daenarys Targaryen: Goddess  
Viserys Targaryen: Null (Two)  
Illyrio Mopatis: Valefor  
Ser Arthur Dayne: Chevalier & Armsmaster  
Elia Martel: Screamer & Leonid  
Khal Drogo: Lung  
Daario Naharis: Hatchet Face  
Ser Jorah Mormont: Strider  
Doreah: Othello  
Missandei: Othalla & Galvanate  
Grey Worm: Gregor the Snail & Newt (Bakugou)  
Ser Barristan Selmy: Black Kaze & Crane the Harmonious

* * *

 **A/N: For my loyal readers who've been reading this from the beginning, I regret to inform you that I made a few major edits to the story prior to this point: Jon Snow has not yet triggered in the current rendition of the story; his trigger event will happen later on, but he will still have the power of Dauntless.**

* * *

 **Chapter 2**

Free City of Pentos

Ser Arthur Dayne stared at the sleeping form of his companion, worry and anger flashing across his face in equal measure. This was all his fault; she'd been well on her road to recovery, but his quest to find a would-be assassin who'd somehow managed to escape his custody, had led them into some very unsavory places.

The one person in the world that he didn't need to physically protect, was an emotional shell of herself. She was a woman of such refined, apodictic beauty that it actually hurt him to look at her, but they could never be together, and he was fine with that.

She tossed and turned, clawing at an unseen enemy. Sweat clung to her like another layer of skin, slowly spreading into her bed covers. Her movements were getting more and more jerky, erratic, and unpredictable.

Any second now, she would wake up screaming, and he would be there for her when she did.

* * *

 ** _WARNING! WARNING!_**

 ** _The following section has a graphic depiction of rape._** ** _Rape is an abhorr_** ** _ent crime that is in no way being condoned by this story._** ** _It is the opinion of this author that shying away from what makes us uncomfortable gives even more power to the kinds of subhumans who commit this deplorable crime._**

 ** _If you can stomach the section, you get a look inside the head of someone you might not have ever thought to try empathizing with, the victim of one of the worst crimes a person can commit against another._** ** _This is an important part of Elia's characterization, something that she had to suffer through to get where she is today._**

 ** _If you are uncomfortable reading this, please skip to the end of this dream sequence._**

* * *

 _Red flames painted the castle with their glow. Smoke and ash hung in the air, strangling the very oxygen out of the keep. The world was so, so hot. Way too hot. This was the kind of dry heat that even Dorne couldn't boast. This was the fire of war, set by men who were the sworn bannermen of her father-in-law. "Lannisters always pay their debts," came the words, sung joyously through the Red Keep._

 _They were not the words she wanted to hear. She was going to die here. Her children were going to die here._

 _The Usurper finally managed to convince the Grey Lion to leave Casterly Rock. The only problem was that Lannister was attacking his liege, not his liege's enemy. And so now King's Landing, undermanned and outgunned, was sacked in only a few short hours._

 _A crossbow bolt shot straight through the barricaded door, taking the head clean off of her closest soldier. A second bolt finished the job of taking out the door, and maiming her last remaining defense._

 _An enormous figure brushed aside what little remained of the doorway, hefting a mind-bogglingly enormous crossbow onto his back with a single hand, while his other wielded a blade larger than Elia herself._

 _Everything was quiet for a moment._

 _Elia Martell stood between the Mountain That Rides and her children, trembling with barely suppressed fear. Gregor Clegane would be able to crush Aegon and Rhaenys with his bare hands. Yet still he pointed a bloodstained six-foot long claymore at her children, a bloodthirsty grin on his face as he looked from mother to daughter to son and back.._

 _She needed to be calm if there was any hope of the Gods letting them escape this nightmare. But the quiet moment was over._

 _"HELP!" She unsheathed a hidden dagger from within her nightgown, intending for the weak spot in her aggressor's armor._

 _A step over the threshold was all it took. Moving far faster than she had any hope of countering, the Head of House Clegane had her thin wrist in his monstrous grip. Her dagger clattered unceremoniously onto the floor. Lannister soldiers, all of whom directly served under the Mountain, started pouring into the room. From the way they were standing, to the way they were looking at her and Rhaerys, Elia knew what was about to happen._

 _One particular soldier, one Amory Lorch (if her vague recollections of her ex-husband's vassals) was pinning her daughter down. The lecherous look on his face as he looked down at her crying, innocent baby girl made her stomach coil around itself._

 _He started fumbling with his belt, but the Mountain bellowed an order. "Nobody touch them until I'm finished!" His subordinates didn't seem too keen on the idea of going after, but none of them were brave and stupid enough to countermand direct orders from the Mountain._

 _Her dress was savagely ripped off her body._

 _The soldiers' eyes drank her in greedily as they waited in silence._

 _Gregor grinned as he stripped off his armor, happy with the knowledge that she'd lost her dagger. "If you fight me," he began, his rumbling voice filled with a dark, manic passion, "I'll let your children go."_

 _She stared at his body, fully nude and monstrously huge, terrifying because his weight along could probably kill her. Silent tears rolled down her face, but she nodded her assent to his offer. "Aegon, Rhaerys... please look away..." The children closed their eyes and turned their heads away from the scene in front of them, struggling as hard as they could._

 _His bear-like smile grew ever larger. "Make them watch."_

 _The soldiers roughly twisted the royal children around, stretching their eyelids open with metal-gloved hands, pointing their heads at the knight and the princess._

 _And then Gregor grabbed her by the throat, lifted her into the air, pinned her against the window, and began his disgusting, dastardly deed She never stopped struggling to get away from him, to harm him in some way that would make him stop, if only for a moment._

 _Unfortunately, her efforts were quite impotent, much unlike her rapist._

 _It lasted for fifteen minutes, bruising and cutting and hurting her once-flawless skin at every opportunity. She could feel him nearing the end, when he roughly grabbed her chin, and forced her to look back at her shell-shocked children._

 _"Kill the Prince," he ordered, still inside his victim._

 _She tried flailing against the giant of a man, tried scratching and clawing at him, but he just restrained her, lifted her into the air, and continued while he was the only support she had._

 _"Nooo! You BASTARD!" she screamed a hoarse scream, bouncing at the ferocious pace he was forcing on her._

 _The soldier who'd been holding the Prince for the whole time did as he was told. He pulled out a dagger of his own, bent the child's neck forward, then sliced from ear to ear._

 _She screamed and tears fell uselessly to the floor. Her anguish was enough to put the Mountain over the edge. He growled as he finished deep inside her, pulled out, dropped her onto the ground, wiped himself off on her tear-streaked face, then... then he just stood there for a minute, basking in the evils that he'd committed, stretching his back and popping his bones nonchalantly._

 _"Now you can all have your fun," he growled, dark smirk on his face as the soldiers began removing their trousers. Gregor walked slowly over to his armor, putting everything back on methodically. The soldiers approached her in slow circles, much like vultures going for carrion. Elia screamed and swore, but it did nothing to help her._

 _"I'll kill you! I'll kill you all!"_

 _One punched her in the jaw, giving her a nasty concussion and knocking her out. They all continued what they were doing in a more subdued fashion; it wasn't as fun for them if there wasn't a bit of resistance._

 _The mountain picked up Rhaerys with one hand, before walking out the door. "... I think I'll keep you."_

 _In the end, when the soldiers were finished, the pushed her out the window. As she fell, something snapped within her, something primal and powerful that only just now caught up with her. As the wind rushed past her, and time slowed down enough that she felt suspended in air, it happened._

 **Destination?**  
 **Agreement.**

 **Trajectory?**  
 **Agreement.**

 _Without thinking, without knowing what she was about to do, she_ **SCREAMED** _. And all of King's Landing heard the powerful, angry and heartbroken caterwauling of the beloved Princess Elia Martell in their own heads, her indescribable pain burned unto their minds and souls for all time._

 _In only a brief moment, she truly captured the world. Then she met the ground with a sickening crunch._

 _As she was losing consciousness, she saw a figure approaching her quickly. His red robes seemed somewhat familiar, but she was too dazed to question who he was. All she knew was that her son was dead, her daughter was soon to follow, and she was well on her way to joining Rhaegar..._

* * *

 ** _WARNING! WARNING!_**

 ** _The above section has a graphic depiction of rape._** ** _Rape is an abhorrent crime that is in no way being condoned by this story_** ** _._** ** _It is the opinion of this author that shying away from what makes us uncomfortable gives even more power to the kinds of subhumans who commit this sort of deplorable crime._**

 ** _If you were uncomfortable, disgusted, and/or offended while reading this, that is perfectly understood, expected, and intended. This will help you understand the true extent of Elia's characterization, and the kinds of traumas that she has to work through._**

* * *

Elia awoke with a hard gasp, silent tears running down her face at her old memories. Even after a decade and a half, it was impossible for her to truly recover from that terrible, awful night. And who could blame her really? Her son was murdered before her very eyes, she was raped by dozens of men, and her daughter...

If it weren't for Thoros of Myr and his ability to heal almost any wound as long as his patient was still alive, she would have died all those years ago.

She didn't know exactly what the fate of Rhaerys was, but she tried not to think about it. Gregor Clegane got away with all of his crimes once Robert Baratheon came to the throne, but Elia was forced to abandon her entire life. Baratheon's hired knives were always just a few steps behind them, something that made all the constant running even worse on her mentality.

Ser Arthur gave her a comforting squeeze of his hand, a soft, sad smile on his face. "It'll be okay, Elia. I'm here."

His presence steadied her, like a mason laying out the stones for a new castle's foundation. "I'm not worried about us," she muttered, her eyes going to the window. "How are Daenarys and Viserys doing, do you know?"

His jaw tightened. "It seems that without us there to temper his anger, Viserys was... his decisions are far different than what they would have been only months ago," said Ser Arthur, a pained look on his face. She gave him a long, searching look, until he explained, "He promised Daenarys's hand in marriage to Khal Drogo, the Dothraki king."

Elia bit her lip. "We need to catch back up with them." If it weren't for a damned close assassination attempt, they would never have gotten split up in the first place, all those months ago.

He nodded softly. "They're staying as honored guests with Illyrio Mopatis, who _suggested_ the match." Unsaid was the fact that Illyrio's power was immensely dangerous to anyone and everyone that he laid his eyes on.

There was a slight pause as she took that information in. "The Magister of Pentos's Trading Guild?" She hoped that Ser Arthur's information was wrong, needed it to be wrong, but something told her that it wasn't so.

"The very same."

"Oh Viserys..." They sat there for a few seconds, thinking about the spiderweb that their charges had found themselves in. If somebody as powerful as Viserys fell under the sway of someone as conniving, ambitious, and powerful as Illyrio...

"How will we even get them out of there? Can we even, at this point?"

Their eyes caught one another, and he responded, "I have a plan. And, hopefully, it'll kill two birds with one stone."

* * *

Free City of Pentos

"I have procured a very _special_ slave for you," said Viserys, his eyes blazing with a mad fire that she'd never seen before.

Daenarys turned her eyes from her older brother to the young woman whose arm was stuck in his vice-like grip. A small, slightly scared twitching of her throat was the only indication she gave that this wasn't normal.

"I am most humbled to be your assistant, Princess," said the slave, her voice tight from pain.

The old blood of Valyria, powerful as it might be, warmed in anger at her brother's treatment of the woman. But right now, there was nothing she could outright do to oppose her brother.

"It's nice to meet you too..." Daenarys took in the appearance of the slave girl: the young woman was an impressive beauty, with flaxen hair and azure eyes. The slave's curves were far more impressive than her own, but she knew she was still but a young budding woman.

"Doreah, Your Grace."

"This Lysene whore's going to be teaching you how to please your soon-to-be husband in the bedroom," came the lilting voice of Viserys, a lust in his eyes that made everyone present uncomfortable. "And trust me, dear sister, I have tasted her offerings and know she's good at her job."

Daenarys shivered.

* * *

"That's very good," said Doreah, her lips quirking upward as she bucked her hips atop Daenarys. "Don't be afraid to look your husband in the eyes; the eyes are where the love comes in, the windows to the very soul..." She softly, sensuously ground against the princess, their eyes interlocked. "... while the Dothraki typically take their women like dogs, all men are intrigued by what they've never had..."

* * *

The Dothraki wedding celebration was the most hectic, frenzied event that the Targaryen orphans had ever witnessed, let alone been a part of.

Musclebound warriors fought each other for the right to fuck the painted dancers, nude people were screaming and flailing about in a savage, archaic dance that made the blood pump with lust and brutality. The air smelled of horses, sweat, blood, cooking meats, and alcohol.

Illyrio and Viserys stood next to one another, watching the Khal carefully as he surveyed the merrymakings of his people, drinking everything in. They were whispering to one another in soft voices, no doubt planning and scheming.

Daenarys had heard rumors, of course, about the very nature of Illyrio Mopatis. Many people said that he was an empowered, much like her brother. The difference between them, however, was that the rich Essosi merchant's power allowed him to control other people.

This explained why her loving brother, who even months ago would never have agreed to putting her through even the slightest bit of pain, told her that he would let the entire Khalasaar and its horses fuck her if it could get him his Iron Throne.

That wasn't the Viserys she knew and loved. That was Illyrio. It had to be.

She wondered why the powerful man didn't bother using his power on her, though none of the answers that she came up with made any sense: either she wasn't important enough to use her power on, his power only worked on other empowered people (which she quickly found out wasn't true as she remembered how his power worked on all of his servants just fine), or...

But her scattered thoughts were lost in the whirlwind of the wedding party. In the midst of all the celebrating, she caught a glimpse of familiar features. An older man, decked out in armor, was looking straight at her.

Without thinking, she approached the Westerosi knight, Doreah hot on her heels.

"Greetings, Princess Daenarys," he said, looking at her with the utmost respect.

"And you are?"

"Ser Jorah of House Mormont," said Doreah, eyeing the man with something akin to longing glinting in her almond-shaped eyes. "Although lately he's been known as Ser Jorah the Strider."

His face twitched at her answer, seeming a bit unhappy with the last part of his official name.

"The Strider?" asked Daenarys, tilting her head to the side. "What an unusual appellation. What, pray tell, have you done to garner such a name for yourself?"

A soft smile graced his face if only for a moment, before he decided to answer, "I am empowered, Your Grace. I can instantly transport up to fifty people anywhere in the entire world, as long as I've been there."

A puzzle piece clicked into place in her mind. " _You_ are how my brother plans to get the Dothraki across the Narrow Sea."

He nodded at that. "Your brother has offered for me to have all of my past crimes in the Seven Kingdoms forgiven, and for the stain against my house's honor to be forever expunged. If your brother retakes the Iron Throne... I can return home, a hero instead of the villain."

Staring into his eyes, she still had questions. "What did you do, to be exiled from our homeland?"

Suddenly downcast, he could no longer meet her gaze. "I would like to tell you that story another time, Princess."

"Oh, are you so sure that we'll meet again long enough for you to tell me stories?" she asked, the slightest hint of mirth working its way into her voice. What a preposterous proposition.

"Well, I'd like to offer you my services-"

The Dothraki suddenly grew quiet. Ser Jorah, realizing the significance of this, stepped away from the princess back into the throng.

The Khal gestured for his betrothed to join him. She was about to be married.

* * *

By the time the gift giving ceremony was over, Daenarys ended up getting: a Dornish stallion, two Dothraki handmaidens named Jhiqui and Irri, the fealty of the empowered Westerosi knight Ser Jorah Mormont, a Valyrian steel katana, and three dragon eggs.

Several hours had passed since then, with the Khal off partying with his horde. The Stormborn Princess, alone in her tent, was tracing her finger along the two gifts that came to her from her old country.

Valyria, the Empire of long ago. A place where even the mighty Targaryen dynasty was an average power at best, if her tutors over the years were to be believed. The Valyrian Diaspora caused her people to spread throughout the world, those few who survived the Doom.

They said that the Doom was why Old Valyria was uninhabitable, why the Ash was black by day but phorphoric green at night, why the city of Stygia was the way that it was.

The sword that caught her attention, oddly shaped as it was, was actually a reforged blade of Valyrian steel. Its original shape was probably an amazing work of art, but something about the craftsmanship of the weapon in her hands felt... superior, to what little works of her people she'd managed to come across over the years.

The man who'd given it to her, one of Illyrio's very affluent friends from beyond Asshai, was interesting. He claimed to be blood of Old Valyria as well, though his family didn't have any dragons to command...

Her thoughts crashed around her feet when the flap to her tent was forcibly opened.

Viserys stood there, roughly forcing her handmaiden to follow him by tugging on her hair. He was silhouetted against the night, his eyes gleaming angrily in the darkness.

"How many times must I remind you, dear sister?" he began, his voice quaking with barely restrained rage. "You do not give me orders!"

"Viserys, please!"

Ignoring her cries, the boy spoke over her, "To show you the error of your ways, I'm going to teach you a lesson..." Keeping Doreah on the ground, he pulled out his sword. Poising for the strike, he grinned maniacally. "DIE!" as the sword plunged down, time seemed to slow down.

 **DeStinatioN?**  
 **AgreEmenT.**

 **TraJectoRy?**  
 **AGreeMenT.**

And then something odd happened: Daenarys felt some power flow forth from her body, grabbing a hold of both Viserys and Doreah. From each, she took something insubstantial, some aspects of their person that went well beyond their physical things.

Both were dazed and confused, likely because all empowered were affected by the trigger events around them.

Viserys felt like... amplification and minimization, the ability to alter the intensity of powers. She knew that to be the power he gained after his triggering in the wake of being driven from their homeland. Doreah felt like... a ghost of a shadow, no, smoke within a reflection... her newest handmaiden was connected to an entire other reality, a mirror world where another version of her could move about freely.

The princess felt both of their powers, then suddenly understood what exactly each entailed. Then, with a thought, she took Viserys's power unto herself, amplified Doreah's power, and then...

The slave was gone suddenly, having transported herself into the mirror world instinctively. Daenarys looked at her hands, ignoring the confused and enraged shouting from her brother. Something clicked in her mind, something about the very nature of her power.

Ser Jorah Mormont was suddenly on the scene, attracted by all the shouting and screaming coming from his charge's tent. Without a word, the man pulled the struggling Targaryen away, unconcerned with the boy's threats of muting his powers for this 'betrayal.'

Suddenly Doreah appeared back where she'd disappeared from, staring at her princess with something akin to awe in her eyes. "You saved me, Khaleesi," she muttered, before dropping into a low bow.

At first, Daenarys wanted to deny her role in what happened just now, scared of how her brother would react when he found out it was her doing, before something told her to just go with it.

Nodding her agreement with her servant's statement, her thoughts soon turned inward.

She thought about what had just happened. Daenarys now was fully aware of the fact that she just triggered, just joined the illustrious group of individuals known as the empowered. From the event, she could now transfer powers from one person to the next.

In a split second, she'd taken Viserys's power for herself. Then she used his ability to amplify other people's powers on Doreah, allowing her to escape from her brother. Yet, how did she know what Doreah could do? As far as she knew, Doreah was not empowered. Had she triggered just now? Regardless, Daenarys had _known_ everything about her Lysene handmaiden's powers.

Everything.

She knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that she couldn't use the amplification power on herself. She also knew that, were she to have her power amplified sufficiently, she could... do something amazing and terrifying, something she'd never heard of anyone else being able to do before her.

Suddenly looking at Doreah, a dark look in her eyes, Daenarys Stormborn of House Targaryen commanded, "Bring me Illyrio Mopatis, Viserys Targaryen, and Khal Drogo. I'm about to hold court."

And thus, a plan was hatched.

* * *

 **A/N: I know that there was a lot of darkness in this chapter, especially with what was done to Elia Martell (even though that was something that happened to her in canon). I'm going to be lightening up the darkness for a while after this chapter, but not forever.**


End file.
